Denial
by painted.inkblot
Summary: Of course he was still there. Why wouldn't he be? Because he wasn't. George was in denial. [DH spoilers]


**A/N: I know there are already millions of fanfics about George getting over the loss of Fred, but just give mine a try, please?**

**Disclaimer: If it was all mine, a certain redhead would still be joking around.**

George was over at a pub with a companion of his. That companion's name was Fred. The people newer to most of the pubs looked at George with confused expressions, the regular customers shaking their heads in that way when they are resigned to a fact. For these people, this fact that they were resigned to was that George was mental.

Or rather, George was in denial.

It had been months since the war had been won and the wizarding world was back to normal- or at least getting there. And George still insisted that there was someone with him whenever he went somewhere. A certain redheaded prankster by the name of Frederick Weasley.

George swallowed the last of his firewhiskey, slamming the cup hard down upon the table. He turned over to the empty seat next to him, commenting "Good firewhiskey, eh mate? Like some more?"

No one spoke up to answer him, but the people in the pub knew that in George's mind, Fred had probably responded.

It seemed he had. "He'd like some more firewhiskey, Will!" George said, pointing to the seat next to him."

The bartender, Will, breathed deeply, then replied, "Coming right up," sounding used to George and his companion. He poured a cup of firewhiskey then placed it on the bar in front of the empty seat. As he did, a redheaded young man walked by the pub. He peered in a second, then looked surprised. "It's just as Percy said…" he murmured softly.

George looked at the empty seat with an amused expression. "You just can't get enough of that firewhiskey, can you?" he laughed, placing his hand in midair. The man outside the window assumed he was putting his hand on a shoulder. It seemed worse than Percy had reported.

The man watched from outside the pub, his expression getting almost more incredulous by the second, as he observed George talking, laughing, and drinking with the empty space next to him. It seemed as if he was normal as ever- except for the fact he was talking to no one, of course. But as the stranger pressed his nose against the glass, looking closer, he noticed there was something missing from George's eyes. They had no spirit in them, and looked haunted. What used to be bright brown eyes were dull, there were barely noticeable bags beneath the eyes, and the robes were no longer well kept; now they seemed to be wearing down considerably, and quicker than they should.

He couldn't bare it anymore. The young man pushed the door open and stepped into the pub, walking up to George.

"Hey, George," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "It's me, Charlie. I came back from Romania to visit.

"Do you mind, Charlie?" he said, looking up at Charlie in annoyance. "You interrupted Fred. We were talking."

"That's one reason why I decided to visit, George," he responded, his eyes widening slightly at George's utter denial. "Perce told me about you."

"Told you about what?" said George, eyes narrowing. "See, Fred," he said, seeming to nudge his brother in the shoulder. "I told you Percy still isn't that good, even if his sense of humor came back a bit. Tattling rat." He tried to turn away from Charlie, but Charlie placed his hands firmly on his brother's shoulder's stopping him.

"George," he said, coming closer to his face," That's why. You're talking to Fred."

"And what's wrong with that? He's as normal a wizard as any, and why wouldn't he want to be talked to?"

Charlie sighed. "Fred is dead George, that's why. Honestly dead. Not living, not breathing. I don't like it either, George, in fact, I hate it. But he is."

George stood up, and squared his shoulders, putting his face in Charlie's. "Fred is _not_ dead Charlie! He's not!" he sounded desperate, and his face looked savage with anger and sadness, all the cheerfulness from before gone. "He _never_ died in Hogwarts, d'you hear?! NEVER!"

The other customers had all stopped drinking and talking amongst themselves, now silent and paying complete attention to Charlie and George. Even Will the bartender was watching, his elbows propped on the bar.

"While I see him here, he'll still be here," George muttered, sitting back down.

"If you love him so much," Charlie growled, turning from George with a swirl of his dark green robes, "then why don't you honor him by accepting what happened to him, or even visiting his grave?"

"I accept what happened to him," George said sulkily. "I accept the fact that he's still living. Cause you are still living, isn't that right Fred?" George asked the empty space, smiling weakly.

Charlie breathed deeply, curling and stiffening his hands, as if going to clench them, then let them relax again. "If I hadn't learned the determination needed for working with dragons, I'd say you were hopeless. Even for me, you're already very near that. And if you want to visit it, _Forge_…"

George flinched at Charlie's usage of his nickname, the nickname his brother called him.

"…the grave of our brother, Gred…"

George glared at him, moodily sipping some firewhiskey he had just asked for.

"…it's right near The Burrow. It's been lonely. We all swore-all of us Weasleys, and Harry and Hermione- that we wouldn't pay our respects to it until the one most important to him did. And we haven't seen him for a long time. He's been out with his brother, drinking himself to oblivion. Think of what Fred would say, George, think!"

"But Fred's right here…"

Charlie shook his head and left the pub without another word. He went on his way to place an order for a portrait of a certain Weasley. One that went by the name of Gred.

------

Charlie knocked on the closed door of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, a big, rectangular package held under his arm. "George?" he shouted, looking up at the second floor.

"We're closed!" a voice roared back from the building. "Not open!"

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had been closed for a long time, ever since the war. Even after the past months, it still had yet to open back up.

"It's Charlie!" Charlie yelled back, craning his neck to look at the window where George was surely near. "I've got something for you!"

There was no answer, but Charlie could hear the sound of feet going quickly down a staircase. The Weasley waited for a moment more, listening to George run to the door.

It opened with a bit of a creak, as if it wasn't used that much anymore. "We haven't had anything given or sent to us since the war," George said. "Make this quick. You woke me 'n' Fred."

Looking at George, Charlie could hardly believe they had been fighting just a week ago. Perhaps George had forgotten. It was certainly possible with all the firewhiskey he'd been drinking. But looking George all over, he could see he remembered. His hand held the doorknob just a little too tight, and the half smile on his face seemed forced.

"Er, I'm sorry I woke Fred up," Charlie said, the sentence odd coming out of his mouth to him. "I just got you something." Without waiting for George to gesture him to come in, he stepped through into the shop, going upstairs, which was where George slept and ate.

"So, what is it you want to give to me?" George asked, plopping down on his bed.

Charlie gently put the large package on the floor, unwrapping it. Fully unwrapped, the package revealed itself to be a framed portrait. It was hard to see who it was, but that was how paintings always were before the spell of keeping them unseen and still was taken off.

Charlie pointed his wand at the painting. "Homus Magi," he said calmly, performing the spell. George leaned forward in curiosity, as the darkness swirled and gave way to bright color, revealing itself to be a redheaded, grinning young man in brilliant magenta robes.

George frowned. "Char, why'd you give me a painting of Fred if he's still alive?"

The portrait of Fred, which had been as still as a muggle picture a moment ago, suddenly opened his mouth and said, "What are you talking about? I'm not alive?"

George glared at the painting. "Yes, you are!" he argued. "You're in the room next to this one. Charlie woke us up, but you've probably fallen back asleep now."

Charlie felt it was time for him to leave now. He walked out of the room and out of the house, apparating to The Burrow, where Percy currently was.

------

A few days later, a horned owl flew in to the kitchen of The Burrow, where Charlie was eating a late breakfast with his sister Ginny, and Percy, who wasn't at work that day. He glanced at the address, and as he suspected, found coming from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The Weasley tore off the envelope, Percy leaning over to see it.

"I thought so," Percy said.

"Dear Charlie, Percy, and anyone else who may be reading this letter," Charlie read aloud, leaning back on his chair.

"I have moved out of the state of Denial. I brought some firewhiskey with me, but I am not drinking it all day. Fred was always better at arguments."

Even after the sentence before the one he had just read, Charlie widened his eyes for a moment, worrying George still believed Fred alive. Then he remembered the portrait, and relaxed.

"Fred has convinced me he would be angry that I'm wasting my life on a barstool, and though at first I was annoyed with him, he reminded me of all the ickle children wanting to become pranksters.

"I was still a bit irritated with him when he pointed that out. Then he told me if I didn't stop being an idiot, he'd become a ghost and haunt me all my life. Though I'm positive this is not true- though while I'm writing this Fred is insisting I think it is, and I do_ not_, Fred!- I began to see a bit of sense in his words, and the rest of my sense that had been abandoned while I was in Denial soon followed.

"To sum what is the foundation of a long, boring letter in the likes of an essay for History of Magic, I shall just say I am reopening Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and coming to The Burrow soon, to that field where I believe you buried Gred.

"With all the sincerity I put in my pranks, George."

------

A few days later, Charlie went to Diagon Alley. As he came to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he stopped in front of it.

The color and the signs were back, and Charlie could see dozens of children in there. He walked in among the noise, and saw Lee Jordan at the counter, the assistant Verity helping a child, and George all in the middle of it all. George saw him and beamed.

"Char," he said breathlessly, "That was the best thing you've ever done for me. I'm never going on a trip to Denial again." He hugged him, Charlie smiling uncomfortably.

"So," said Charlie, "where is he?"

"Didn't you see him?" George said, smiling broadly. "Next to Lee, on the right."

Charlie didn't know how he'd missed him. There was the painting of Fred, who was shouting loudly about one of the shop items, adding to the ruckus. He saw Charlie and waved wildly.

"Oi, Charlie," he shouted, "aren't you gonna thank me for shaking all the barminess from my brother's head?"

Charlie grinned as he looked around the shop. George was out of denial, and it didn't look like he was going back there anytime soon.

**A/N: So, how was it? R&R please, constructive criticism greatly appreciated!**


End file.
